Para-canadian Activity
by NuclearParadise
Summary: Ivan is woken up one morning to find that his new home is a bit more than he bargained for. Ghost AU Warnings: Mentions of suicide, swearing, and spooky ghosts. RusCan (Really lame title that I laughed at for way too long)


**A/N I may or may not have written this at 4:00 in the morning...**

Ivan rubbed his eyes of sleep, blinking them a few times in the darkness. He lifted a brow, his mind still partially asleep. Everything was silent all throughout the house, apart from the faint whistling of the wind outside. He could have swore he heard something crash downstairs, but he wasn't completely sure it had actually happened. Ivan waited a few more minutes, keeping his senses alert. The same thing had happened a few nights before and the week before that. It was chilling even for the seemingly fearless man. He had been living on his own for years, ever since moving out of his parents house back home in Russia.

Again another crash sounded, sounding like glass this time. Ivan's shoulders buckled and he felt a spike of adrenaline pulse through his veins. That was definitely not his imagination.

Ivan threw the covers off of himself and rolled out of bed. He felt around in the dark, resting his hand on the hammer by his bed and the flashlight sitting vertically on its face. Quickly, he gathered the items up and flicked on the flashlight. A yellowish stream of light poured out from it, guiding him through his room. Ivan kept his foot-falls quiet as he shuffled on the hardwood flooring in his bare feet. The air hanging in the house was cold, he could have swore he had stoked the fireplace before going to bed.

_The vents in this place must be faulty, just like the water pipes,... and half a dozen more things._

A month and a half in now, Ivan had begun to regret his choice of settlements. The mansion was quite large, fitting for himself and familiar with his childhood home, but it was too much even for him. The first week he had ventured through the winding halls of his new home and it left him with a sense of loneliness right from the start. Unfortunately, he had made a foolish decision and payed for the place a few years in advance, thinking that there was no better place.

Hell, this place was worse than his closet-sized apartment in Moscow.

Ivan shivered as he slowly descended down the twisting staircase, rubbing the inside of his wrist over his forearm. His hair was standing on end. The air became colder and colder the lower he descended until he reached the bottom floor. He let out a short shuttering breath, stilling his chattering teeth. In his limited light, he could see a small puff of white swirl into the air. How cold was it in here? It was barely even fall yet!

His eyes flicked back to the path ahead and he shuffled quicker. He almost jumped again as another crash shattered the air, coming from the direction of the kitchen. Ivan hurried to the kitchen, where a faint light poured out from the closed door. He tensed his muscles and held his hammer ready above his head. Ivan bit his lip nervously, leaning his powerful shoulder against the door, gripping the doorknob in his hand. On the count of "one, two, three." under his breath, he turned the knob and swung the door open with great force. He let out a wild scream, rushing inside to whatever scene may await him.

Ivan froze completely solid, his eyes wide. His skin paled a shade in horror.

A young man stood with one hand on his fridge door and the other clutching two eggs to his chest. His violet eyes matched his own wide ones, his fare features ashen. A single strand of hair strung out from the rest of his honey curls that spilled perfectly down his head. Atop his head was a chef hat, drooping to the right.

But the most chilling features of all... He was translucent, barely visible in the overhead kitchen light.

Ivan felt the breath hitch in his throat, his field of vision becoming warped. His heart pounded in his chest, fresh with fear.

"Eh... Boo?" The ghost murmured, closing the fridge carefully.

Ivan shook his head. "I-I must be dreaming... this isn't happening! A... ghost?! Like the ones in fairy tales and ghost stories?" He dropped his hammer with a loud clank and grabbed his hair, pulling it tightly at the roots. "I-I've really lost it now!" His voice shook.

The ghost walked over, his hands held out defensively. "Ah... I'd hate to interrupt your... eh, rambling, but you're not crazy... well to a certain extent from all I know... I do exist." He tilted his head to the side, simpering nervously. "Eh, please calm down.

Ivan shook his head, taking one step back. "N-no please- stay where you are." He held out his flashlight in a threatening manner. The light pouring out of the bulb shone right through the young man, causing the delicate details of his abdomen to fade.

They frowned. "I-I'm terribly sorry to inform you, Mr. Braginsky, but it is my home that you've decided to settle in... I was just preparing some breakfast, could you please be so kind as to put your... eh... 'light-thingy' down?" He glanced down at the flashlight and back up to the larger man's face.

Ivan scowled. "What do you mean, _your_ home!? The real estate agent said that this place was void of life for years! The last owner gave up the place when he couldn't afford the repair!" He clicked the light off, allowing the ghost's feature's to reappear.

"Again, you're wrong. My papa and I owned this place ever since his papa gave him the property and his papa before him and so on! It is a part of the Bonnefoy bloodline!" The blonde's voice echoed eerily as he spoke more urgently.

Ivan pursed his lips, looking suddenly very concerned. "But I spent half a fortune on this place! Where do you expect me to go?"

The ghost smiled playfully, shrugging. "I mean... _I guess _you _could _stay..."

Ivan furrowed his eyebrows. "I don't really appreciate ghosts in my home."

The ghost held out his finger. "Ah!- _My_ home."

The russian rolled his eyes, a good humored smile spreading across his face. "Thank god it was just a ghost, huh? For a moment I thought a bandit had made his way into here."

The blonde gave him a questioning look. "And what would you do if I was here to rob you?"

"I'd break your legs." Ivan hummed a little too fondly.

For a moment the ghost looked a bit disturbed. "Thank god I'm already dead, or else I would have taken that as a threat!"

Ivan walked forward, fazing right through the blonde. "And what is it you've been making for breakfast... er..." He paused in the middle of his sentence with the absence of the other's name.

"Matthew, and I've been trying to find some milk to make some pancakes." Matthew answered, looking rather annoyed at the other's rather rude barging.

Ivan hummed, closing his eyes and sniffing the air. "I love pancakes, especially my mother's potato pancakes." He turned to Matthew as he sort of hovered over the ground. "Do you know how to make those?"

Matthew crossed his arms. "Well, I'm not much of a potato person, I rather regular pancakes."

Ivan shrugged, glancing briefly to the floor where a broken bowl lay shattered in pieces. "I guess I'm going to have to make them then, da?"

The blonde lifted a brow. "And what about _my _pancakes?"

"Bah, you can make your lame american pancakes, but I am making draniki." He strode over to a cabinet and began to take out his needed ingredients.

Matthew's face grew reddened as he scowled in frustration. "They're not _lame_, or _american! _They're a canadian specialty!"

Ivan picked up a spatula and motioned with it towards the fridge. "The milk is in the very back in a carton, don't use it all!" He turned back to his work, taking out a few potatoes out of the lower cupboard.

Matthew opened the fridge, leaning in to search through its contents. "God! Why all the vodka? Are you trying to drown your liver?"

Ivan chuckled. "It's only a bottle or two, Russians have iron in their blood!" He remembered his grandfather saying the same thing to him as a boy.

"More like five or six! I'm surprised I haven't seen you lying around drunk in the past month!" Matthew reemerged from the fridge with a half-full carton of milk.

A sudden warmth spread across Ivan's cheeks. "W-wait... you've been watching me?" He asked, sounding uncharacteristically sheepish.

Matthew nodded, setting the milk on the table. "You're quite odd, Ivan. Wandering around such a large house alone! I expected intruders, naturally, but a single man? Do you have any relatives?"

Ivan began mixing his ingredients, shrugging with a frown. "I guess my eyes were bigger than my interests... I thought the bigger the better. Perhaps I would have my sisters and family move in with me some day. My family is rather poor back in the mother country."

Matthew, cracked his eggs into the bowl, mixing everything together with a wooden spoon. "So you aren't really alone? Do you want me to allow more people inside?"

The larger man shook his head. "No, there is no need. My sisters and I... we don't have much of a relationship anymore, and my family refuses to acknowledge me anymore."

"What for?" Matthew asked, furrowing his eyebrows. "Family is extremely important!"

Ivan shrugged. "Beats me, but it could have something to do with me leaving Russia."

"Ah." The blonde murmured, returning to his gaze to his bowl.

"What about you, Matthew? What about your 'Bonnefoy bloodline?' Do they reside here as well?" Ivan asked, taking the attention off of himself.

Matthew sighed. "They're gone... I think they made it to the other side."

Ivan frowned, grating his potatoes. "What of you? Did you not make it? Is that why you're still here?" He heard another sigh from ghost.

"My papa always told me that people are born into this world with half a soul, and the only way for them to leave this world a whole is by finding the other piece... In other words, I never fell in love, and now I pay for it here in the old mansion."

Ivan stopped his work and glanced over, tilting his head. "And that's it? You just give up? You'd rather be doomed to stay here in this lonely old mansion forever?"

Matthew stopped mixing his ingredients, striding over to the stove. A few minutes passed without an answer.

Ivan frowned, furrowing his eyebrows. "Why don't you even try? You're still young, no?"

The blonde turned to him, scowling. "I'm two hundred years old Ivan! I'm barely visible as it is! Who the hell dates a god damn ghost!?" He fumed.

Ivan closed his eyes, realizing his mistake. "Well... If it makes you feel any better, I haven't found anyone yet either."

Matthew huffed. "What are you? Twenty five?"

The russian frowned. "Twenty eight, actually, but I've had my experience in dating."

Matthew shook his head, flicking on the burner. "Sure, try having an arranged marriage."

Ivan strode over, dropping his grater. He knew he couldn't set a comforting hand on the other's shoulder, but he still held a hand out. "Surely it could have ended in love, right?"

Matthew visibly shook, with anger or sorrow Ivan wasn't sure. "My father set me up with a german woman, her hair as white as a dove's wings. But her eyes were as red as blood, she was so loud, so self-centered. I couldn't love a woman like that. We argued constantly."

"What did you do?" Ivan asked, pity clear across his face.

"I got married, I had to. We had the wedding in the courtyard, it was extravagant. They released doves, there were red roses beautiful enough to take your breath away... But I couldn't... I just couldn't take it." A clear streak ran down Matthew's cheek and seemed to disappear before dripping. "I hanged myself upstairs, in my bedroom- now your bedroom."

Ivan felt guilt weigh in his chest, his face reddening. _That certainly wasn't in the tour of the house._

"After then, I blacked out for a bit, for a few days, weeks, months, even years, I didn't know. But I saw my papa aging alone in this house, my mother having being long gone. He missed me, but I couldn't comfort him. No one saw me." He held a hand over his face. "Th-that's why I was so surprised that you even noticed me."

Ivan wished he could comfort him. "I'm sorry, Matthew."

Matthew shook his head, swallowing his tears. "No, I promised I wouldn't cry any more. There's no use crying over something long past."

Ivan gave a disagreeing look. "_Well. _It does help you feel better."

The ghost laughed sarcastically. "Better. Yes, I guess you could say that."

Ivan made an awkward motion to sort of pat the other's back, though his hand just went through. "Hey, you've got me to give you some company for at least eighty more years, right?"

Matthew's gaze flicked up to the taller male's face, his expression wavering between sad and content. "So you won't be moving back to Russia? What about your sisters and family?"

Ivan shrugged. "Let them miss me." He smiled.

Matthew gently smiled back. "Thank you."

"For intruding on your property?"

"For filling this place with a little life, it was beginning to get quite dusty." Matthew giggled.

Ivan frowned. "Did you really have to live in such a large place? It's going to take a lifetime to clean it all!"

Matthew smirked. "Well, I'll be waiting patiently until you're done."

The russian narrowed his eyes. "You are an evil spirit."

"You could call me that. But I do prefer Matthew, thank you very much."

Ivan shook his head with a smile, returning to his own pancakes. They both cooked their own separate meals and sat at the rather large dinner table to eat. Matthew sampled some potato pancake while Ivan sampled his 'canadian specialty' pancakes.

"They're still not as good." Ivan stated sourly.

Matthew sent him an angry glare. "Well I'm sorry, does it not have enough salt on it to stop your heart?"

"Then we'd both be ghosts." Ivan laughed. He gave Matthew a questioning look. "By the way, I wasn't informed that ghosts could eat people food."

Matthew frowned, but it was clear he was trying very hard not to laugh. "I'm not an dog, it's not called 'people food.' And yes, I do rather eating mortal food rather than drifting around on an empty stomach."

"How exactly does it even stay in your stomach?" Ivan asked, eating some of his own pancakes.

"Well, that I can't answer... I guess it just fades... in?" He shrugged.

Ivan smiled. "What else can_ fade in?" _He narrowed his eyes with a smirk.

Matthew's cheeks flared up and he looked rather flustered. "You pig!"

The russian chuckled. "Oh! You should see the look on your face!" He had to hold his stomach as he laughed harder. "Oh my god, you look like a ghostly tomato!"

Matthew's frown twitched into a smile and he too began to laugh. "Jeez Ivan, you're such a dick."

"I pride myself with that title, thank you." He retorted.

They finished up their breakfast and Matthew followed Ivan back up to his bedroom. Matthew just faded through the door, while Ivan had to open it for himself to enter.

"Great, not only can I not touch you, but you can choose what goes through you. Now I've got an invisible pervert problem."

Matthew shook his head. "No, I'm no pervert. I respect your privacy, I was once alive once too."

Ivan gave him a long unsure look. "Then would you kindly fade back out? I have to get dressed." He motioned down to himself. Ivan was only wearing a pair of heart boxers as sleepwear.

Matthew pouted and whined. "But you look so cute in the hearts!"

Ivan narrowed his eyes. "Shoo ghost."

The blonde mocked him, speaking in a deeper voice. _"__Shoo ghost, I don't want you to see my big man dick."_

Ivan's face was bright red. "Get out!"

Matthew snickered to himself, fading back out of the door. "Fine."

Ivan waited a moment. "Matthew, I can hear you breathing." He murmured, unamused.

"How!? I don't even need to breathe anymore!" A voice answered playfully from the other side of the door.

"Please." Ivan insisted.

"Okay, sorry." Matthew murmured, though Ivan wasn't sure if he left or not. He didn't make any sound.

Ivan unsurely took out some clothes from the dresser and began to undress. His eyes flicked over to the door, his cheeks still warm. He wondered if Matthew was still there or not.

Matthew floated down the stairs lazily, a small smile on his face. It was fun finally speaking to someone, he couldn't remember how long it had been. He began to clean up the kitchen while Ivan got ready upstairs. He wondered if his introduction was alright.

"Oh god, I was annoying again, wasn't I." He murmured to himself, suddenly feeling panicked. "Jesus, oh god, I was too rude." Matthew then bit his lip. "And I cried in front of him, jesus, this wasn't how I'd hoped we would interact."

"I thought ghosts were supposed to be shy." A voice from the door almost made Matthew jump. He turned to Ivan with a shy smile.

"Ehe... well I did try to stay quiet." He murmured in a low voice.

Ivan smiled. "You're such a clutse." He then stepped inside, "Let me give you a hand."

Matthew smiled thankfully and the both of them finished cleaning the kitchen.

**A/N Sorry if they are a tad OOC. I'm a dork. **


End file.
